>>1347 (OP)
Upon the table it was laid,
The lowly grape, in light arrayed.
With tools of steel, both sharp and fine,
Did surgeons work, as if divine.
With careful hand and artful slice,
They sought the flesh in manner nice.
No haste they made, no step astray,
To peel its skin and keep at bay.
The lamps did blaze, the shadows fell,
As healers wrought their magic spell.
In measured strokes, with stitches tight,
They plied their craft throughout the night.